Death's Con Artist
by Stirling Phoenix
Summary: Oikuro. Spy!AU. Kuroo's never encountered a situation he couldn't talk himself out of, and a gut feeling tells him that his streak won't be ending any time soon. But then again, until now he's never met the man who could make him eat his sweet words, leaving him defenseless and exposed for who he truly is.


**Death's Con Artist**

 **Pairing: Oikawa Tooru/Kuroo Tetsurou**

 **Rating: R (M)**

 **Chapter One**

* * *

Facing down the barrel of a gun isn't exactly how Kuroo imagined this evening would turn out. At this point, he should probably be questioning every life decision that led him to this point, perhaps even seeing his life flash before his very eyes. He thinks fear should consume him in this moment, that he should be thrown into a realm of pure terror, the likes from which he'd never escape.

But surprisingly, he feels none of that. Not even the slightest hint of anxiety weighs on him; instead a rush of pure adrenaline that hinges on the unbearable courses through his veins, and all but begs for a reaction. However, the one shred of self-preservation he has keeps him in place. His mind hardly even registers the feeling of cool metal being none-to-gently pressed against his forehead. In fact, it's almost like the gun isn't there to begin with, not when Kuroo's far more interested in the man holding the automatic firearm.

The notion to draw his own weapon crosses his mind, he knows he could if he wanted, there's still that millisecond of time before his opponent (he mentally cringes at the thought-he'd rather not think of this particular man as the enemy) has his gun cocked and ready. Kuroo notes the exact way in which his pale finger rests on the trigger, and he knows he's not ready to fire just yet.

He could do it, but he doesn't. He can't explain why, but he rather likes this position. Being subject to this man's divine mercy, with a silver tongue as his only form of defense is exactly where Kuroo wants to be right now. Even in the face of death, Kuroo's never felt more alive. It's the most exhilarating, and dare he say, _arousing,_ sensation he's ever experienced. He's just been given a taste of the sweetest drug the world has to offer, one hit and he's already addicted. He craves for more, and luckily for him, he knows just how to get it.

"So, you come here often then?" The smirk he's known for pulls at the corners of his lips.

The man holding the gun, Oikawa Tooru (if in fact that is his real name-in their line of work it could very well be a fake) isn't amused. Or at least he's not showing it. The distinct sound of the gun being cocked rings through Kuroo's ears, but he doesn't so much as flinch.

 _Time's up!_ The voice that he thinks might be that same shred of self-preservation cries before fading into the dark depths of his mind.

"Is that what you want your last words to be?" Oikawa clicks his tongue, as if he's disappointed with Kuroo's sense of humor. "You really are a shameless flirt."

Kuroo knows that now is not the time to provoke Oikawa, but he's never been one to keep his mouth shut, whether it's for his own good or not. He bats his eyelashes at Oikawa, giving him an expression that not even the densest of people could mistake as anything other than salacious. "Don't be that way," his voice becomes velvet smooth as he continues, "if you were logical, you would have killed me already~." He knows Oikawa will most certainly take that as provocation, but he genuinely believes it. That same finger that rests comfortably on the trigger, ready pull whenever the fancy strikes, remains still, and Oikawa's lips morph into a frown before he adds: "Lord knows I've given you plenty of opportunities already."

The gun remains in place, but Oikawa himself steps forward. He looks at Kuroo with pointed eyes, clearly judging the life choices Kuroo should be questioning himself. "What makes you so certain that this isn't the opportunity I've decided to take, hmm?"

Kuroo shrugs the question off; his smirk grows wider, not that he's trying to hide the supreme amount of amusement he takes in the situation in the first place. "Why are you hesitating?" He makes no attempt at suppressing the thick layer of mockery that taints his voice.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side as a pensive expression covers his face. Kuroo's almost surprised his head hasn't been blown off at this point, but he's in no position to complain about that either. He remains quiet and lets Oikawa ponder in peace. The mocha eyes that Kuroo's become enamored with over the past several weeks are bright with a mixture of emotions that he can't even begin to decipher.

More time than Kuroo would normally tolerate passes in utter silence, much to his dismay. He dramatically muses that if Oikawa doesn't end him now, the silence will. As much as he tries, patience really isn't his forte.

"Well?" The grin that's plastered all over his face almost hurts his jaw as he too takes a step forward, pushing against the gun as he moves. He's not exactly surprised when Oikawa's arm bends back, allowing him to come closer while still maintaining the gun's contact with Kuroo's temple. Part of Kuroo thinks that Oikawa's just as curious as he is, that he actually wants to see Kuroo talk his way out of a situation that would have already killed a lesser man. Kuroo can't be certain however, the look in Oikawa's eyes is as cryptic as ever.

Their noses are just millimeters apart when Kuroo stops. He can feel Oikawa's warm breath against his lips, he considers stealing that last bit of space away from Oikawa, but ultimately decides against it. That omnipresent inkling of self-preservation may be silent, but it sure as hell isn't dead yet.

It's not that he has a death wish. It's more like a habit he just can't kick. Even with the cold, clammy hands of death wrapped securely around his throat, ready to take his last breath just as soon as Oikawa pulls the trigger, Kuroo can't stay away. With Oikawa, he's never had that luxury. Maybe Kuroo should be questioning every life choice he's ever made up until now. Perhaps he should be praying to every deity he's ever heard of, pleading for salvation in exchange for his undying loyalty, or scrambling to make peace with himself and everything he's done in life.

But he's not doing any of that.

Kuroo is exactly where he wants to be, and he doesn't regret a damn thing.

"What's it gonna be?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but the derisive lilt is still well ingrained in the tone. "Don't keep me waiting, sweetheart. The suspense is killing me~."

* * *

To be continued~


End file.
